The Battle
by SeraphStar
Summary: Warren has hated his father for almost longer than he can remember. So why is the bad news so...bad? Oneshot.


**AN:** This was a short that came to me at work. It's dedicated to my uncle. That's all I'm gonna say. Standard disclaimer applies. 

**The Battle  
**

It was an ordinary day…well, as ordinary as it could be at a floating academy for super-powered kids. It was sunny. There were only a few clouds; just enough to block the sun, but not enough to make you wish you'd brought a raincoat. School had just gotten out and Warren was in the parking lot, heading for his rusty ol' sentra, when 'the gang' approached him. Maj, Zach, Ethan, and Layla hung on the outskirts of Warren's 'personal bubble' (about a fifteen foot radius) while Will approached him cautiously.

Warren looked up at his friend in acknowledgement and dug around in his pocket for the car keys. "What, you guys need a ride or something?" he asked, his tenor voice hinting at amusement. Unlocking the door, he held it open, waiting for Will's answer.

"I…" Will opened his mouth and shut it again. "We…" He sighed, scratching the back of his head. "Well, we heard the news on…well, the news, and…" Will coughed, looking back at the others before turning to look at Warren. "And I'm the one talking to you because I'm the damn-near-indestructible one…but please don't roast me…" Will went on.

Warren held up his hand. Will had a tendency to babble when he was nervous. Or when he was put on the spot. Or when he was just feeling like there was a big, uncomfortable silence. It was sort of irritating. "What did you hear on the news?" Warren asked patiently.

"That…" Will paused again. "No, I'm sorry, I'm saying this wrong. We just want you to know that…" Will sighed. "We want you to know that we're sorry." Looking up at his friend, Will braced himself.

Warren was confused. "Sorry for what?"

"We…it was the top story this morning." Will stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Your…we- we're sorry about your dad."

Warren's eyes narrowed. "What about my dad?"

"They…well," Will sighed.

"Spit it out, Stronghold," Warren demanded.

"He's dead."

The formerly narrowed eyes widened in disbelief. Warren glanced up at the others, eyeing him with concern. Meeting Will's eyes, Warren pursed his lips. "I gotta go. I'll see you later." Stepping into the driver's side, he sat and reached for the door. Hesitating, he looked up at Will again. "…Thanks." The door slammed shut and he sped off down the runway.

Warren drove. His dad was dead. From what? He vaguely recalled his mom telling him about the Battle family's tendency to heart disease. Was that what had killed his father? And what did he care? The man was a bad seed, wasn't he? Wasn't he?

_The apartment filled with smoke as Alayna snatched a seven-year-old Warren up from the floor where he'd been building with his Legos. The biggest, bestest, most awesome plastic building block laser gun dropped from his hands as his mother surrounded them in a protective shield. Her voice quivered as she spoke softly, murmuring soothing reassurances that were meant more for herself than for the little boy in her arms._

_The explosion a few houses down had rocked the small, two-story apartment building they currently called home. And there were footsteps…approaching fast._

"_Give him to me, Alayna," Barron demanded softly. "Only I can show him his full potential."_

_Alayna shook her head. "No."_

_Battle howled in rage when her protective shield shocked him. Fleeing the backup squad, he left the two of them, and the only place Warren had ever called home, in ruins._

_Warren's homemade laser gun had burned a hole in the carpet, all right. A bubbling mass of red plastic, smoking gently, along with everything else they'd ever owned._

Warren punched the dashboard. That bastard had taken everything. The money, the car, he'd blown up the house. Concentrating on his landing, Warren pulled into the two-car garage and turned off the engine. His mom's car was in the garage, but it wasn't surprising given that her office was just down the street. Sighing, he buried his face in his hands. Puling back and blinking in surprise, he found his fingertips were wet.

He was crying.

_Little Warren Peace was scared. Tommy at school had told him about all the icky sea monsters they'd see on the kindergarten field trip tomorrow and Warren really, _really_, didn't want to go. He was considering hiding under his bed right after mommy came to tuck him in, but wondered if there were monsters under _there_ too._

_Whimpering, with his knees and the covers pulled up to his chin, Warren felt the tears begin to roll down his cheeks._

_A noise at the door startled him, and he looked up._

"_What's the matter son, hm?" his dad came to sit beside him on the bed. "What's the problem?"_

"_T-tommy s-said that," Warren sniffled, "tomorrow on the boat…he-he said that…" Another sniffle. "The sea monsters…they…" Warren looked up at his father, eyes once more filled with tears. "He said they're gonna eat me!"_

_Baron Battle stroked his son's hair. "Shh, shh, it's okay. The sea monsters won't eat you," he smiled wryly. "Do you know why?"_

_Warren sniffled again, shaking his head._

"_Do you remember what I taught you?" his father asked softly. "About the fire in your hands?"_

_Warren nodded._

"_Show me," Baron prompted, beaming with pride when his son produced a small fireball, about the size of a quarter. "You see that? Don't show Tommy, or anyone else, but if the sea monsters come after you, just hurl one of those suckers at 'em and they'll all swim away. Understand?"_

_Warren nodded, sniffling one last time._

"_So are you ready for the trip now?"_

_Warren nodded again, looking expectantly up at his father._

"_What? A bedtime story?"_

_Warren nodded one last time, a hint of a smile playing on his lips._

"_All right, 'once upon a time'…"_

Stalking into the living room, Warren threw his keys on the kitchen table, draping his jacket and schoolbag over a chair…and was surprised to see his mom's purse there as well. She didn't get off at the law firm until at least four, usually. Racing up the stairs to her bedroom, he heard soft, staccato sobs echoing through the hallway.

Knocking on the door, slightly ajar, Warren stepped inside. "Mom?"

Alayna raised her face from her hands, tearstains evident on her cheeks, to see her son standing in the doorway. "Warren-" was all she got out before dissolving into another onslaught of tears.

Warren rushed to her side, enveloping her in the biggest, warmest hug he could. "It's gonna be okay, Mom," he murmured, stroking her hair, just like his father had done. "It's gonna be okay."

He felt her arms wrap around his waist. "Warren," she whispered, voice cracking, "he's gone." She hiccupped quietly. "He's gone."

"I know, Mom. I know," he mumbled. "It's gonna be okay."

Alayna Peace hiccupped again. "I never, not once while he was…there, I never missed him," she confessed, one hand covering her mouth. Hugging her son tighter, she sobbed, "I miss him now."

"I-" Warren didn't know what to say. His dad had done things, bad things, unforgivable things. But there were times, more than Warren cared to admit, that he would have given almost anything for his dad to read him just one more bedtime story.

"I miss him too, Mom," he whispered. "I miss him too."


End file.
